began when I was a child, when I had no 

 name to give the strange bird that I watched 

 day after day, and when those whom I asked 

 for information laughed at my description 

 and said no such bird existed. It was just 

 beyond the upland pasture where the famous 

 Old Beech Partridge lived. On the northern 

 slopes were some dark, wet maple woods, and 

 beyond that the ground slanted away through 

 scrub and alders to a little wild meadow 

 where cowslips grew beside the brook. One 

 April day, in stealing through the maple 

 woods, I stopped suddenly at seeing some- 

 thing shining like a jewel almost at my feet. 

 It was an eye, a bird's eye ; but it was some 

 moments before I could realize that it was 

 really a bird sitting there on her nest between 

 the broken ends of an old stub that had fallen 

 years ago. 



I backed away quietly and knelt down to 

 watch the queer find. Her bill was enormously 

 long and straight, and 

 her eyes were 'way up 



'!6SOSJ 



/^t+.^t^? N- 



